In the hours before dawn
by Archaeologist
Summary: Arthur has been haunted by voices ever since Merlin died. He just wanted it to stop.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:** Major character death, temporary character death, reveal, Canon AU, fire and burns.  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; It and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

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The smell of smoke, the shouts behind him of horror and bewilderment, the jangle of chainmail and hissed sound of swords being drawn as the guards shifted toward the crowds, hit him with the full force of the impossible.

Merlin was standing on the pyre, crying out Arthur's name, begging him for help, and Arthur powerless to do anything. And yet he had to try. It made Arthur's gut tighten in terror that he'd be too late, that Uther's obsession with magic would win in the end, and Merlin burn.

The day seemed to shiver before his eyes. Arthur knew what would happen next.

He tried to yank his father back, to try and talk some sense into him, but it was useless. Instead, Uther's fist crashed into him, sharp and fast, an impossible spike of pain surprising in its intensity. Momentary grey haze threatened unconsciousness as Arthur fell back, then as he sprawled onto the cobblestones, he blinked up at his father in shock.

Laying there a moment, he fought off the growing darkness. Merlin needed him and Arthur would never let him die for Arthur's own weakness.

Merlin cried out again, worry in his voice as he roared out Arthur's name. By the pyre, stunned and confused, Arthur struggled to get up. Above him, Uther was shouting some nonsense about Merlin using magic, emphasizing his paranoia with a swing of the flaming torch, too close to the wood for comfort.

Then before Arthur could say anything, Uther sent Arthur another blow to the head, and with a swift turn, thrust the torch into the tinder-dry wood.

It was almost as if the pyre was touched with magic. Before Arthur could take a breath, a blaze flared up, hot and greedy, licking at Merlin's feet, then swirled across him, clothes already smoking as the pyre turned inferno-red.

Arthur was too late.

Merlin was screaming in pain, his voice burnt and agony-rough, and Arthur shouted for him, struggling even now to get to him, trying to scramble up through the blaze, but Uther held him back, the king's grip implacable. All he could do was watch in dread as the flames, a firestorm of heat and horror, twisted around Merlin, his mouth open in wild-agony, everything smoking, crisping before Merlin disappeared behind a sheet of flame. There was one final broken cry before the roar of the fire drowned out everything else.

Uther let him go then, turned away, satisfied and smug, talking about how sorcery was defeated once more. But Arthur heard none of it, just watched, numb and unbelieving as smoke billowing, the pyre flared up, impossibly high, then burned down to ash.

Soon after, the rains came. Too late, too late.

Arthur hated the days after.

He couldn't face Gaius who had been imprisoned while Merlin burned, couldn't bear Gwen's accusing face or the pity in Morgana's eyes.

Avoiding his father, because he was afraid of what he might do if he faced him again, Arthur instead trained and trained and trained, until his arms were numb and he couldn't feel anything anymore.

It didn't really work. The nights were filled with terrors, Merlin's death ever-present in his nightmares. And sometimes, thinking that he'd heard Merlin calling him, shaking him awake, Arthur would be ready with a mocking insult as he turned toward the voice. But there was never any one there.

At least, during the day, he could function – minimally - for the people of Camelot.

He tried to be kinder, to be the man Merlin had always said Arthur could be. It was harder than anything he'd ever done, but slowly, slowly, it seemed to work. People began to come to him with their concerns, began to treat him as someone they respected rather than feared. And things got better.

In time, taking his courage in his hands, Arthur faced the king, trying not to hate him but never loving him as he had once done. He could see how fear and paranoia moved Uther, that the king would never understand his people as Arthur now did, knowing, too, that he would have to protect Camelot from his own father if needs be, as he had not been able to protect Merlin.

Hating it but knowing it necessary, he learned to flatter and cajole the king, to manipulate him through sheer will and lies, though it cost Arthur sleepless nights and pain to do so. But at least Camelot would be safe from Uther's worst excesses.

Still, the nights were hard, Merlin's murder ever-fresh. And there were times in the deep dark, when Arthur thought he could hear Merlin calling him.

That was the worst part. There were insults and laughter and soft apologies, so typically Merlin that Arthur began to think himself insane.

He learned to ignore it, or tried to, anyway, and he didn't dare bring it up to Gaius. The old man had aged years in a matter of months, had grown silent and sullen, and there was no one else.

But sometimes, in the dead of night, Arthur would follow the insults, would try to catch whoever was tormenting him. Down corridors, into high towers, out into the wood beyond the gates of the citadel. Sometimes, it would lead him to quiet meadows, or a brook babbling nearby, or a grove of trees sighing in the wind. He would lie down and listen and watch the wheel of stars overhead, and in the morning, he would feel a little calmer, a little less guilty.

Knowing that it couldn't go on, that if someone caught him, it might start rumours of his fitness to rule, Arthur was determined to ignore the voice. But one night, it was just too much.

His shoulders covered by the cloak he used when sneaking out alone, he crept through the castle, following the voice. He was angry and frustrated and so lonely that he couldn't bear it and this haunting, this whatever it might be, had to stop. Unfortunately, there was only one person he knew who could help.

Pushing Gaius's door open, he spotted the old man dozing at the bench, his head pillowed on his arms. But as he closed the door, privacy imperative, Gaius opened his eyes, and seeing who had entered, began to rise. "Sire, is something wrong?"

Gesturing for him to sit back down, Arthur went over to him and sat next to him. Gaius frowned at that. "Sire?"

Swallowing hard, not wanting to voice his fears, still he had to know the truth. "I may be going mad." When Gaius looked alarmed, Arthur said, "Since Merlin… died, I've been hearing things, a voice. Never threatening but it… it sounds like Merlin. He…."

"Merlin is dead." Gaius's voice was sharp and so definitive that Arthur flinched back.

"I know that. I watched him die. It haunts me every day and every night, Gaius. I should have done something more, I should have." Arthur must have sounded as desolate as he felt because Gaius's face softened.

"Gwen told me that you tried to crawl up into the flames to rescue him."

"It didn't make any difference. He's still gone. But I… I hear him." Arthur gave a little laugh, half-sob. "He keeps insulting me. Calling me idiot and dollophead and prat. But there is no one there."

"Are you sure?" Gaius frowned. "The senses can be tricky things. Sometimes we hear things that sound odd but have a perfectly innocent explanation. The wind or floorboards creaking or an echo of someone talking farther down the hall. It is common enough."

"The voice is very distinctive and only Merlin ever used those insults. He was… very inventive."

"That he was." Gaius looked unhappy for a moment, but then his face cleared as if given a puzzle could keep Gaius's grief at bay. "It could be a curse or a spell."

It might be something more. A spell he could deal with or a curse, but if Merlin was trying to contact him from beyond the grave, he wanted to know. "Or a haunting?"

"Sire," Gaius started to shake his head but when he saw how much Arthur was hurting, his voice gentled. "Yes, or a haunting." When Arthur nodded, Gaius said, "I will need to know everything that has happened and… sire, it could be that magic was used, and if that is so, only magic can undo it. Arthur, the king would never allow it."

With that, Arthur's face turned to stone. "The king doesn't need to know."


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur thought that it would be relatively simple to determine the cause. After all, when Merlin was still alive, Gaius always had an answer and a cure quickly enough, often with hand-waving and some rubbish explanation that Arthur overlooked because Merlin was already dragging him off to fix whatever it was plaguing Camelot. And by the time things had settled down enough for Arthur to think about what had just happened and wonder, there was another crisis.

Now with Merlin gone and days without an answer, Arthur was growing impatient. It wasn't as if Gaius wasn't trying, though. The books by Gaius's bench grew, potions and strange crystals and unidentified herbs piling up, and more often than not, Gaius bustled about his laboratory, muttering to himself.

The voice, too, changed as time went on. Merlin, because Arthur was certain it was his voice plaguing him, was growing louder, his words clearer, and it wasn't just insults but observations, suggestions, as if he were still Arthur's unacknowledged advisor and not some ghost haunting him. A melancholy voice, wistful at times, then growing cheeky again as if to try and fool Arthur into thinking there was nothing wrong.

But everything was wrong and finally Arthur had had enough.

Standing over Gaius who was giving him a put-upon look, Arthur crossed his arms and stared back at him. "You must have found something by now, Gaius." There was a flash of guilt in Gaius's eyes and Arthur's anxiety peaked. "Out with it. No matter the cost."

There was hesitation and a kind of dread in Gaius's voice, but the old man seemed to gather himself together and said, "Sire, I… Uther accused Merlin of sorcery."

Arthur remembered it well. He'd pleaded with his father, begged him but to no avail. The fact that Merlin looked terrified hadn't helped, but then he always looked like a scared rabbit around Uther. Arthur brushed the very idea aside, shaking his head. "Yes, it was ridiculous, of course. He was no more a sorcerer than I am."

Guilt deepened in those old eyes and then Gaius looked away, down at his hands. "Sire…."

Merlin's voice was clear as crystal, sounding almost breathless with apprehension. _Don't listen to him. He's just trying… Arthur, I think you are needed downstairs. The patrol has news of those bandits…._

The patrol wasn't due to be back for days. Arthur's suspicions began to grow, and he needed answers. Brushing aside the increasingly worried voice, Arthur said, "Out with it, Gaius. The truth this time."

 _Please, I didn't want you to find out this way. I didn't mean to…._

Arthur sent a scowl back toward where he thought a ghostly Merlin might be hovering, then turned to Gaius, frowning down at him, and waited for him to either reassure Arthur or break his heart.

It didn't take long. Gaius said, "Uther was not wrong in his suspicions."

For a moment, it didn't make sense; it was mere noise. Even if he'd been prepared, with horror and outrage growing in the back of his mind, it hadn't been nearly enough time or preparation, not when he'd given Merlin all of his trust.

And then it hit him. Merlin had been playing him for a fool all these years after all.

There was a babble of excuses behind Arthur, mixed in with denial and apologies, but he ignored it. He'd be damned if he'd listen to that lying idiot just then. Instead he focused on what Gaius was telling him. It was easier than letting the anger overwhelm him.

"You are not under a curse nor a spell but there is magic there." At that, Arthur nodded. It was a relief, small amongst the fury bubbling away in his chest, but still it would mean that he wasn't under someone else's control.

Gaius gave a little sigh, frowning up at Arthur as if able to read how truly upset Arthur was, and then said, "Merlin isn't quite dead, nor is he alive. He seems to be caught between worlds. As far as I can ascertain, when he tried to escape the flames, he thrust himself into the magical realm but not fully. Something held him back, and it was enough to keep him from reappearing elsewhere. Strong emotion or a connection so deep that he could not bear to lose it. And now he's trapped."

If Arthur had been a little less furious, he might have tried to understand what Gaius was implying. After all, before this debacle, Arthur would have said that Merlin and he had an unbreakable bond, guarding each other's backs with all the strength they could muster, willing to die for one another over and over again.

And now, Arthur didn't know what to think. He wanted to strangle Merlin; he wanted to shake him until all the secrets he'd held spilled out and Arthur could finally find honesty between them. He wanted to beg Merlin's forgiveness for not being more understanding. But mostly he wanted to throw things. At Merlin.

In a flat, hard voice, Arthur said, "He's alive then?" When Gaius nodded, Arthur was back to furious. "Good, because when he gets back, I'm going to kill him."

There was a whimper in the air, Merlin's voice heavy with grief, but Arthur ignored him, tried to ignore Gaius, too, when Gaius said, "Sire…."

That just set Arthur off again. "He couldn't tell me himself? He's been lying to me all this time?"

"Would you have spared him if he had?" Gaius seemed almost defiant.

Arthur couldn't bear it any longer. He grabbed something on the bench, didn't bother to see what it was, something oddly-shaped and probably precious to Gaius, but he didn't care. Throwing it against the wall felt good, the first he'd felt in quite some time. The clay flagon shattered into a thousand pieces, the liquid within staining the stone green and then orange as it ran down the walls.

When Gaius moved to protest, Arthur shouted back at him. "I trusted _him_. I'll throw him into the stocks until the wood rots away. I'll make him clean my boots with his tongue and thank me for it. And everyone else's, too. And clean the stables with a spoon. And the cesspit. And the swamp beyond that." When Gaius just gaped up at him, Arthur spun around, his hands fisted and threatening, and yelled into the air, "Do you hear me, Merlin? I'll make your life a living hell when I get my hands on you. You think things were bad before. Just wait."

From behind him, softly as if trying to calm Arthur down, Gaius said, "Sire, this is not helping."

Arthur wheeled, shouting, "He lied to me, Gaius. Was there even one moment of truth in all that time?"

"More than you know." Gaius rose up, his arms crossed, his posture both defiant and deferential. Staring at Arthur a moment, he said, "He hated it, every single day hiding himself from you, but with the king so adamant about sorcery, what else could he do?"

Loathe to admit that Gaius was right, that Merlin would have had to hide every moment in Camelot, still Arthur said, "He could have trusted me."

 _I did trust you. I do, Arthur._

While Merlin was whispering in his ear, Gaius was giving him a look, one filled with disbelief. "And what would you have done? Helped Uther build the pyre? Thrust the torch into it yourself?"

Arthur was appalled all over again. "Gaius, never. How can you say that?"

He'd been unable to save Merlin before, and that Merlin might have thought Arthur capable of allowing it, of wanting it, was horrifying.

Merlin was silent, though, as if he _did_ think Arthur might have condemned him, and that was even more heart-breaking than Gaius's accusations.

Standing there a moment, looking down at his feet and then back up at Arthur, Gaius lifted his head in defiance. He said slowly, carefully, pointedly, "It was I who cautioned Merlin to remain silent. Arthur, you must realise that your father has murdered countless innocents in his quest to destroy magic. I had friends and family who died in agony, those I loved. I thought Merlin had died, too, and I had done nothing to save him."

Grief caught in his throat, it took Arthur a moment to breathe again. "Gaius, I don't… I know it's hard with my father. I know that he's done terrible things and I haven't been able to stop him. I've even helped him at times to my great shame. But I don't know what to do to fix this."

Gaius slumped a little, gave a deep sigh. "It is hard to know who to trust in these trying times. Forgive me for thinking the worst."

 _Arthur, can you… can you ever forgive me, too? Even if you are still a prat._

He wanted to forgive them both, but it was still impossible to think his way through it all. Instead, pushing all the anger and hurt aside, he said, "So Gaius, how do we bring Merlin back?"


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur wasn't too sure about it, in fact was massively sceptical about the whole mess. Gaius claimed that it was the bond between him and Merlin that caused the problem and that the bond had to either be severed or strengthened enough to pull Merlin out of the space between worlds.

It sounded easy enough. Gather wood, drink a potion, chant a few unintelligible words, and then step into the ring of fire, luring Merlin into completing what he'd begun in Camelot, replicating what had started it all since apparently magic demanded balance - whatever that meant, and hope Merlin would think Arthur in danger, push through the trap Merlin had set himself, and 'rescue' Arthur.

They'd done it before with the troll and that awful potion and Merlin had come through, although Arthur learned afterwards that it had been a near thing.

But it was one thing to drink something that merely tasted awful and caused a bit of unconsciousness/near-death on Arthur's part and quite another to deliberately climb into an inferno that could hurt and hurt badly if things went sour.

Gaius was adamant, though. If something wasn't done to test the bond and tighten it enough to pull Merlin back, he might be caught there forever. Something that was theoretically dangerous to Arthur because Merlin always, always, threw himself in harm's way to protect him, no matter the cost. And it couldn't be air or water or earth because the bond had been forged in fire, and in fire, it had to be completed.

It didn't help that Arthur would have to learn a spell. It was one thing to accept that Merlin had magic, had practiced it for years, but Arthur was Crown Prince of Camelot and upholder of the laws governing it. To deliberately participate in something so forbidden as magic damned him in the eyes of his father and his people.

It also didn't make sense. Arthur had no magical powers, but Gaius mumbled something about being born of it would do just as well – which also didn't make sense, but after everything that had happened, he didn't argue. He had quite enough to think about with lying to his father about where he was going, losing his knights while they were 'hunting', and then meeting up with Gaius later for the final preparations.

Surprisingly, it all went off without a hitch. It could have been that Merlin had stopped yammering in Arthur's ear and he could finally think for once. Or it could have been their luck changing. Either way, before he knew it, Gaius and Arthur were standing in front of a cave entrance and planning their next move.

"Sire, this must remain between us. This place is sacred to the Druids and to those with magical abilities. To desecrate it would be an unimaginable loss to both Camelot and Albion." Gaius was looking a bit worried, glancing around as if he expected Uther to come along and hack into the cave with swords and battering rams.

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings is well-known as a haunted place and few would venture inside. Even my father's troops would balk at such a command. Besides, your path was convoluted enough for even the best tracker to lose their way." He meant to imply that he was, of course, perfectly aware of where they were, but truth be told, he had no idea. But when Gaius raised one eyebrow, obviously seeing right through the ruse, Arthur added, "No need to worry, Gaius, I would be able to find my way home easily enough."

"Of course, my lord." Gaius reached down and began to drag one of the branches scattered around the entrance into the cave. "I will need more, enough for a pyre. While I prepare the herbs, perhaps you could gather the rest?"

Arthur nodded, then walked away, looking for dryish logs or anything that might burn easily, although not too dry. It would, after all, be his death if things went awry.

But later, when he began to drag the wood into the cave, he had to stop a moment. He'd never seen anything so beautiful before.

The cave was filled with crystals. Shining in the torchlight, a million prisms were dancing colour across the walls and ceiling, silver and golds and red, blues and greens. As he walked into the chamber, it was almost as if he were inside a crystal globe, dazzling and infinite, breathtakingly intense. As he looked closer, he could see scenes within the crystals, little miniatures of his past life, his favourite horse, the tumble of puppies he'd played with before his father found out and had them destroyed, the glitter and pageantry of the court. Laughing with Merlin at some joke he'd told, the feathered hat he had made just for Merlin, riding with his knights.

He leaned in, dropping whatever he'd had in his hands, trying to look closer. But he was jerked back, Gaius's hand on his shoulder, looking worried. "What did you see?"

Arthur wanted to dive back into the light, see what else he'd find in the stones, but with Gaius frowned, waiting, Arthur shrugged. "I… just things I'd forgotten. In the crystals. Memories of happier times."

"That is not possible. Only those with magic could see into them. Unless…."Gaius said, slowly, carefully, "Your bond with Merlin is a powerful one."

That didn't sound good. It was one thing to help Merlin return, traitorous though it was, but quite another for the Crown Prince to have magical abilities. "I don't like what you are implying, Gaius. I don't have magic."

Gaius nodded. "No, you do not. But nothing like this has ever happened before. Merlin has never happened before. It could be that his magic, loosened by the gateway, is growing wilder, sharing power with you in an attempt to strengthen your connection."

To Arthur, that didn't sound much better than having magic, but Gaius didn't seem to understand his concerns. Instead, pointing to the pile of wood by the entryway, he began to walk past Arthur, and as he did, Gaius said, "In any case, we should hurry. The moon will rise soon and that is when the barriers between the worlds thin out."

But, as far as Arthur was concerned, the wood could wait. He had to know if he'd be cursed with sorcery and everything that implied. "Does this mean I will have magic when Merlin returns?"

He tried to keep the horror out of his voice, but some of it must have bled through. Gaius stopped, then turning back, watching Arthur with confusion, he must have realised how worried Arthur was. Gaius sighed, patting Arthur's arm a moment in reassurance before gesturing toward first one cluster of crystals and then another.

"Arthur, we are standing at the epicentre of all magic. The power of this place will affect everyone who enters here. That's why I chose it, to make it easier to pull Merlin back into this world. But beyond these walls, beyond the entrance to the Valley of the Fallen Kings, no, not likely."

Nodding again toward the pile of logs, Gaius said, "Please bring in the rest of the wood. I've finished the potion. All we need now is the fire-ring to be set and your words and actions upon it. Did you memorize the spell?"

"Of course." Arthur would have been insulted but he had other things on his mind.

Gaius didn't seem to believe him. "Arthur?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, and gave a long, put-upon sigh. "Yes, Gaius, although why can't you say the words?"

"Merlin must be able to hear them and answer." Gaius looked almost sad, as if he'd wanted to be the one plagued with Merlin's mutterings, strange as that seemed. "Much as I've tried, I've not seen nor spoken to him since he… died. Only you." Then he shook himself free of whatever melancholy was troubling him and said, "Now hurry."

The ring of wood was set, herbs thrust into the bark, and Gaius was shoving another potion into Arthur's hands, for protection Gaius said although his magic wasn't strong enough for much – which wasn't reassuring. Suddenly it seemed all too real.

Arthur was no coward, but frankly he was terrified of fire. Too many times he'd watched as people screamed out their pain, shrieks so horrible that they haunted his nights for months afterwards, and there was the scent of burning meat, and the way their hair caught fire and their skin crisped before his eyes.

Gaius must have understood his reticence. He didn't push Arthur, just stood there, waiting to see what he would do. Arthur knew that Gaius would never blame him if he backed out but Arthur wasn't about to back out, not now.

It should be safe enough. The fire once set would surround Arthur but not touch him. To Merlin, it might appear that Arthur was trapped, in danger, and he'd have to go through the flames to rescue Arthur. A completion of what Merlin had begun. If things went well, they'd both be fine, and Merlin back where he belonged. If not, well, Arthur didn't want to think about that.

Off in the darkness in one of the side-tunnels, Arthur could hear Merlin sniffling. _I'm sorry,_ he whispered into the ether, _I'm so sorry._ And a little later, in a voice half-broken with the sounds of grief, Merlin said, _Don't do it, Arthur. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. You are worth a thousand of me and I'm just an idiot servant. I should never have started talking to you. I just made things worse and you should go back to being your old prat self and I…._

"Shut up, Merlin." It felt good to say it, even if he couldn't see Merlin's face. It was a reminder of what he'd lost and what he would gain once he breathed in enough courage to start.

 _I don't want to lose you,_ Merlin said, so softly that Arthur almost didn't hear him. _I couldn't bear it._

Arthur nodded. "I have stocks waiting for you, idiot, and a pile of vegetables with your name on it. I've been practicing my aim just in case the peasants miss."

 _I can't wait._

"Neither can I." And with that, Arthur grabbed the vial in Gaius's hands, downed it in one gulp, then stepped into the centre of the wood ring.

As Gaius shoved the torch into the logs and the herbs caught fire, Arthur began to chant. " _ **Geond**_ _ **bæl, geat**_ **onscíeteþ.** _ **Merlin, onierne**_ _ **sé**_ _ **geat ond e**_ _ **dhwierfe**_ _._ "

Merlin's voice was filled with horror. _Don't be such a prat. Get out of there before…._

One of the logs spat out pitch, a sharp sound, and Merlin gave a frantic cry. _No! Don't do this. I don't know how to get back. I don't. You'll die and it will be my fault. Please, Arthur, no!_

The flames were already leaping up, but Arthur tried to ignore them, tried to breathe in cool air enough to say, " _ **Merlin, onierne**_ _ **sé**_ _ **geat ond**_ _ **edhwierfe**_ _._ "

Merlin was shouting, and mixed in with his cries, Arthur thought he heard humming, a low vibration rising sharp into worry. He couldn't see anything beyond the flames, but above him, the crystals were glowing with reds and blacks, reflections of the fire intense in a thousand sharp facets of stone. As he watched, the light seemed to merge impossibly bright, then exploded, lighting up the cave in an inferno.

Fire rained down on him. He reached up, trying to shield his face as flames crackled above his head. Then the blaze spread, falling to his feet, racing across the stone where no wood burned. Still, batting at the cluster of heat and pain around his head, trying to stamp out the flames at his feet, he couldn't see through the fire, could hardly speak. His lungs were seizing up, and it felt as if he were ablaze, too.

Agony increasing with every movement, clothes starting to smoulder, and a great blast of flames reached up, biting into his skin, and the side of his face, and a jolt up his arm. Arthur drew in a sharp breath, trying not to whimper.

Merlin was crying now, screaming for him to get away. _No, no, Arthur, don't do this. No, please, no._

" _ **Merlin, onierne…**_ _ **sé**_ _ **geat… ond**_ _ **edhwierfe…**_ Merlin, I'm… sorry _._ "

Before his eyes, another burst of light reddened everything, the heat pushing down into his throat and he couldn't breathe, couldn't beg Merlin. There was a smell of hair burning and then pain so great that he couldn't see for the agony of it covering his head, the back of his neck, and one cheek. He drew up his hand, and the skin where the fire had hit were bubbled and torment and everything was burning, and in that instant, Arthur knew he was going to die. "Merlin…." And Arthur began to curl forward, red and black and pain sheeting across him and….

" _ **Gerín!**_ "

A great wash of water poured down onto his face, glacial-cold, sending its own pain into his skin, and he couldn't breathe because he was drowning.

Tumbling down, past hissing wood, and steam and pain, trying to gasp air into starved lungs, Arthur barely could feel arms dragging him away from the flames, could barely understand that someone was cradling him. Shivering, overwhelmed with hurt and cold, all he could do was lay there.

He didn't dare open his eyes, didn't dare see how badly he was hurt. He didn't want to know. But more, he didn't want to know if it was Gaius who had rescued him, was holding him close. He didn't want to know that he had failed, that it was dark, and he had failed Merlin.

"You utter arse. You idiot, clotpoll, donkey-brained, cabbage-head. How dare you! How dare you!"

It sounded like Merlin, sniffling, grief's tears dripping onto Arthur's face. There were soft touches, so tender that they could have hardly been felt if not for the blisters of skin and char. On Arthur's other side, he could hear Gaius tutting, and then cold ointment smeared into Arthur's burns, hands gentle but firm. Cloth ripping and the smell of burned leather and linen.

As he drifted, above him were whispers and fury and contrite apologies. The sound of chanting and heat cooling into relief. He still didn't look up. His eyelids were sealed shut with more salve, but the voices were comfort and home and Merlin.

And that was good enough for now.

* * *

" ** _Gerín!_** " = Rain

 ** _Geond_** ** _bæl, geat onscíeteþ. Merlin, onierne_** ** _sé_** ** _geat ond edhwierfe_** _. =_ Through the flames, the gate opens. Merlin, open the gate and return to me.


	4. Chapter 4

When Arthur woke, they were still in the cave. He lay on a blanket, mostly naked except for the barest of clothes covering him, salve smeared on reddened skin, blisters and ridges of semi-healed flesh. There was more damage than he'd thought, but at least he survived.

Surprisingly, nothing hurt. But he put that down to Gaius's medicines, rather than Merlin's. Merlin had always been rubbish at healing.

He didn't try to get up, though. Arthur knew from other times that the flesh had to heal on its own, be gently cared-for and manipulated so that there wouldn't be any lasting damage other than scars. If he ruined his sword arm, it would be worse than a few scars. Still, his skin began to itch a little and he went to scratch.

"Don't you dare. You'll make things worse." With that, Merlin came into view, sat down next to Arthur, scowled as only Merlin could, and began to add more salve to the burns. At least with the cool relief, the itching went away.

As he lay there, Arthur looked at the man he'd nearly died for. Most of Merlin's black hair was gone although stubble was beginning to appear. One eyebrow burned away, and there were scars around an ear and part of his skull. When he applied more ointment to Arthur's skin, Arthur could see that the back of Merlin's hand was peeling and raw. He looked like he'd nearly been burned alive. It made Arthur sick to think that he'd been unable to protect him from his father's wrath or the fire he had to go through a second time to return.

"You unbelievably stupid arse. What were you thinking?!" Merlin said, scowling down at him as if he wanted to punch Arthur or give him a swift kick up the backside. He looked furious, as furious as Arthur had ever seen him, but his touch was gentle.

Arthur reached out, held onto Merlin's thankfully-unburned wrist, shaking him a little. "Gaius said you would be trapped there forever. I couldn't allow it."

Merlin didn't pull away. Instead he blinked rapidly, shaking his head, looking down and away. In the dim light, Arthur could see the beginnings of tears, too, but he didn't dare call Merlin a girl's petticoat, not yet anyway. They'd been through too much together for insults.

Staring at the wall, Merlin said, "Gaius doesn't know everything. You could have been killed and it would have been my fault." He sounded almost defeated.

Arthur's grip tightened and Merlin looked back at him. When Arthur was sure Merlin would listen, he said, "I couldn't leave you there."

"I was perfectly fine."

Indignant, lying Merlin, telling Arthur what he thought Arthur wanted to hear when all Arthur really wanted was Merlin honest. "No, you weren't, you idiot. "

"Yes, I was." Merlin was sputtering, pulling at his wrist a little, rubbing it when Arthur let go. He took a deep breath, let it out again, then put his good hand on Arthur's uninjured shoulder. "Alright, no I wasn't, but Arthur, I… please don't ever do that again. If you had died, I would have died, too. I…."

Arthur covered Merlin's hand with his own. "Don't be ridiculous. I didn't die."

"Not for want of trying." Merlin seemed closer to crying but then must have thought better of it. "You cabbage-head, I thought I was going to lose you."

"And I you." Arthur pressed his hand, enjoying the warmth and closeness. So often, they skirted the bond between them. Perhaps it did take almost dying to see what was right in front of them and he didn't want to lose it, not just yet.

"Merlin, we've rescued each other a dozen times or more. At some point, there will be loss. It is inevitable. If I could sacrifice my life for yours, I would and gladly. You are my best friend and dearer to me than any other – although if you tell anyone, I will have to kill you."

That made Merlin smile a little, a soft shy grin. But it was becoming too personal, too emotional, and Arthur couldn't handle it just now. He let Merlin go, gestured down at his burns. "So, how bad is it?"

"You may not want a mirror just yet." Merlin said, clinical now and acting more the part of physician's apprentice rather than Arthur's fool. "Hair's mostly gone for the moment. It will grow back as will your eyebrows. The skin is still tender on your scalp, neck, and hands so scratching is out of the question. The leather jacket you wore helped a lot. One block of wood fell onto your leg, burning through the cloth so there will be a scar there. Same with your right arm but you'll be able to use it again to fight with time." Merlin looked down at him and said, as severely as he could, "Lots of salve, lots of magic, and don't even think about objecting to it."

"Can I have some clothing at least?" It was getting cold and Arthur felt a little exposed in front of Merlin. Never mind that they'd both been naked dozens of times around each other.

Merlin got up, limping over to a pile of clothing, then pulling a tunic out, helped Arthur into it. One sleeve had been cut away. Then as he picked up a blanket and laid it gently over the non-burned areas, he said, "Gaius is getting clean bandages for the burns. You will have to move your arm and leg normally to keep them from seizing up."

"Yes, oh mighty physician. Although I might note that you need to heal yourself as well." Merlin shrugged as if his health was of no importance. Arthur wanted to roll his eyes and give the idiot a shake. "Can't you use, you know, magic?"

"Ummm, I have been using it." When Arthur gave him a disbelieving look, Merlin sputtered a bit with indignation. "I may be rubbish at healing but I'm great with magic and Gaius has a few books that might help. When I return to Camelot, I can help you with your burns as well."

He didn't want to have this conversation, never wanted it, but sometimes it was best just to plough through, and let the hurt heal in time. With Merlin staring down at him, with Merlin's trusting blue eyes and tentative smile tearing at Arthur's heart, he said, "Merlin, you aren't coming back to Camelot."

Sometimes shockingly easy to read, Merlin's thoughts were as clear as glass on his face. Arthur watched hope turning into despair. "What? Why? Don't you…don't you want me there?" Shrinking into himself, curling away from Arthur as if already apart and dying because of it, Merlin said, "Why would you? I'm just a lying sorcerer. Of course, you wouldn't."

Arthur struggled to sit up, burns pulling at him, but he wanted to face Merlin fully, not lying down like some invalid. "Don't be an idiot. Would I have gone through all this if I didn't want you to come back with me? Look at me, Merlin. I don't have hair right now. Do you think I'd lose it for just anyone?"

Nodding, Merlin said, "It's not a good look on you. Uther, on the other hand…."

His father's bald head had been pretty funny, especially with Gaius's or rather the goblin's treatments, but Arthur couldn't let Merlin know that. "We swore never to speak of it again."

Merlin shrugged, then lifting his one unburnt eyebrow, he gave a little grin. "Can we speak of your donkey ears then? Because those certainly improved your pratly face."

Knowing what Merlin was doing, knowing that he was trying to divert Arthur from his resolve, didn't make things any easier. But Arthur wasn't going to let Merlin die again just because he was too soft-hearted.

"I don't want this either. I've a stock that needs a Merlin to fill it, and cesspits and stables and boots that need cleaning." Arthur watched as Merlin turned solemn. "But my father would never allow it, especially when you are supposed to be dead. Next time he'll just run you through and be done with it."

"But I can use magic…,"Merlin said.

And that was exactly the point. Arthur knew that Merlin would be back to using magic willy-nilly as soon as he could. So instead, he knew he'd have to be strong for both their sakes.

"Exactly. I can't risk it. There is too much danger in Camelot for you and I won't lose you all over again."

Merlin scowled at that, then grinned as if Arthur hadn't said anything at all. "I can hide. I'm good at that."

"Merlin…." It took all Arthur's courage to stare down a hopeful Merlin, to watch him finally realise that Arthur wasn't changing his mind.

When Merlin did, he stood up, shaking and furious. "So that's it then. Bonds and friendship and love mean nothing to you?"

Just like Merlin to think Arthur was being selfish, when it was the farthest thing from the truth. Arthur wanted Merlin to come back, more than anything. He'd have sacrificed honour and duty and his place at the court, but it wouldn't have made any difference. Uther would never accept Merlin back, would kill him as soon as he set foot in Camelot. And Arthur couldn't let Merlin die, not again.

"Merlin, please don't make it any harder than it already is."

"Then I won't." Merlin stood there a moment, perhaps expecting Arthur to change his mind, but when nothing came, he said, "Good-bye, Arthur." Then he turned and walked away.

"Merlin… stop." Arthur called after him, but Merlin just ignored him, brushed past Gaius, and hurried up the stairs towards the cave entrance.

Gaius frowned, looking startled as he watched Merlin disappear around the corner, then turned back to Arthur. "Where is Merlin going?"

"He didn't take it well when I told him he wasn't allowed to come back to Camelot," Arthur said. He knew Gaius would understand. He'd seen what Uther could do and had lived with the consequences for years.

"Ah." Gaius paused a moment, watching the entrance to see if Merlin were coming back, but when he didn't, Gaius said, "I can try and talk to him."

Laying back down, Arthur stared up into the crystals in the ceiling, his thoughts following the cracked lines of those that had been damaged in the fire. The smoke still lingered, too, a clear sign of what they'd been through together, fire and near destruction and loss.

"It doesn't matter. He can't come back and that's the end of it." Arthur's heart broke at the thought of maybe never seeing Merlin again but it couldn't be helped. But as Gaius knelt and began to bandage his wounds, Arthur said, "Gaius, when I've gone back to Camelot, could you stay behind a bit, make him see reason? I can't… my father would just kill him on sight. Merlin must understand that if it were up to me…."

Gaius nodded, tying up one bandage and patting it down, gentle and physician-deft, and starting on another. "I will. Merlin will come around, I'm sure of it."

"Tell him, tell him that when I become king, he is welcome back in Camelot." Arthur's throat tightened, swallowing down the grief that threatened to burst out. The thought of long years without his best friend, his only real friend, was tearing at his chest, the thought that Merlin would never come back, that he'd never forgive Arthur for sending him away ever-present.

Gaius seemed to understand. "I think he knows that deep down inside."

"Tell him anyway. Just in case."


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin refused to talk to Arthur. He could hear Merlin and Gaius arguing in one corner of the cave all night, could hear raised voices and fury mixed with Gaius's soft reasoning, but to no avail. The next day, bandaged, hurting, Arthur left, calling out a farewell, but there was no reply.

It didn't help that when he finally found his way back to Camelot – Gaius wasn't kidding about how difficult it was to navigate the Valley of the Fallen Kings, Uther was there, waiting.

His father took one look at Arthur's wounds, and ordered him locked up in his rooms for a week, attended only by silent servants and Gaius once he returned. More prisoner than prince, there was no conversation, little in the way of food other than bread and water, and a cloud of Uther's fury hanging over Arthur's head.

Gaius, too, had no good news. Merlin was still upset, but Gaius was sure he would come around in time and send word where he was staying. He certainly expected some communication although he couldn't promise that Merlin would send Arthur any letters. Not that Arthur expected any. Merlin could be as stubborn as a mule when he thought he was right.

Days turned into weeks. Uther, still furious, rarely let Arthur out of his sight, certainly didn't allow him to go out on patrols or go anything outside the castle grounds, and while Arthur's duties were severely curtailed, it left him more time for reflection and training.

He did try to be kinder, although in one way, he reverted back to pre-Merlin prat. Going through servants, sometimes two in a day, he refused to let any get close. A single misstep and they were gone, usually with a sigh of relief on their part as Arthur was being an absolute arse toward them. He would relent later, sending them money, following up to make sure they had work and had not been punished for his mistakes.

But he was unhappy and lonely and friendless. The people accepted him as prince, seemed to welcome his insights and help, but no one saw him as a man, much less a friend. Even Morgana and Gwen seemed to realise that he needed someone to talk to, but Arthur would always just shake his head and walk away.

When things seemed unbearable, he would talk to his horse, combing him down, remembering the good times with Merlin, sometimes arguing with the horse who luckily didn't argue back.

Sometimes he'd be caught out, especially by some ragged-haired boy who was doing errands for Gaius. When he'd first heard that Gaius hired a new apprentice, he'd been suspicious, but Rolf was nothing like Merlin, was brown-haired and brown-eyed and scowling most of the time. No sunny smile, no cheeky greeting, no inventive insults. Arthur soon learned to ignore him.

Until one day when he was there for Morgana's sleeping draught – she'd been plaguing him all day to get it, he overheard Gaius admonishing the boy, "How long can you keep this up?"

The voice was low, not at all like Merlin's, but there was something about him that reminded Arthur of arguments and hunting trips and soft confessions in the dark. "As long as I have to. It's not that hard. Well, it is hard. I want so much to tell him, but you heard him. I wasn't allowed back and he's an idiot for thinking I'd pay attention to anything he'd have to say about it."

And there was relief and fury and such joy that it took a moment for Arthur to think again. He'd told that bloody fool to stay away and now he was back in the thick of things, and it was clear that no matter what Arthur might say, Merlin would ignore him and do what he damn well pleased. As always.

Well, two could play that game.

Pushing open the door, Gaius and Rolf jumped apart, Rolf almost knocking over the flame and flask bubbling away above it. Arthur tried not to roll his eyes. Instead, he closed the door, sauntered over, leaned against the bench, and looking as sternly as he could at Rolf, Arthur said, "Well, Merlin, it's about time you've returned. The stables haven't been cleaned properly since you left."

"You… I… what?"

"Articulate as always, I see." Arthur sniffed, then deliberately turned to Gaius. "Gaius, I appreciate that you had to keep this a secret, but we will be having a talk about trust in the near future. Do I make myself clear?" When Gaius nodded, the old man sending a dark, warning look towards Merlin, Arthur said, "I'd like to speak to Rolf alone if I may."

Merlin was gesturing wildly, almost knocking over the flame again although he did manage to send a few empty vials flying, but Gaius ignored him and said, "Of course, Sire." And with that, Gaius took up Morgana's sleeping potion, bowed slightly to Arthur, shook his head at Merlin, and left.

When the door closed behind him, Arthur wheeled on Merlin. "What the hell are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to stay away? You are going to get yourself killed, you idiot."

Rolf's face seemed to melt away – an odd thing that Arthur really didn't want to see ever again, and there was Merlin, looking contrite but implacable, as if facing a horde of Saxons and determined not to back down.

"I could say the same for you, clotpoll."

With that, Arthur rushed Merlin, pulled him into a fierce hug. He never wanted to let go. Merlin was hugging back just as hard, and breathing fast against Arthur's neck as if trying to keep from crying. Which Arthur could understand because there were tears clogging his throat as well.

Still hugging him, Arthur said, "You can't stay, you'll die and I can't… I can't let that happen again."

"I'm not leaving you. Never again. And you didn't recognise me so the king won't either." As Merlin pulled back, he whispered a few words, his blue eyes fading into yellow and then brown, and Rolf was standing there.

"I don't want to know how you did that because it's obviously forbidden. Does it hurt to change?"

Merlin gave him another sharp hug and then let him go. His grin was still the same, cheeky with just a touch of wicked mischief. Arthur had missed that grin. "No, not once I got used to it. But I better keep it on while there's people around."

"Merlin…." Arthur wanted to tell him to flee before it was too late but he knew the girl's petticoat would never go.

"Arthur, don't even try. I'll just come back as an old woman or a child or someone else you'd never recognise. You should know by now that you're stuck with me. For good."

Wanting to give Merlin another hug but knowing it was too soppy for now, instead Arthur punched him in the arm, and when Merlin protested, Arthur smiled. "Promise me one thing, though. If you are caught again, I don't want you to wait. I want you to go, far away where you'll be safe."

Merlin thought about it a moment. "Until I can come back again as someone else?"

Arthur nodded, reaching up, ruffling Merlin/Rolf's shaggy hair, then stood back, looking at him critically. "An old woman, really? I bet you'd look ridiculous."

"I've even transformed into a merlin once, although getting back to my normal shape was a bit difficult."

Merlin looked pleased and not a little proud. Arthur couldn't even comprehend how he could do such a thing, but if Merlin said he did, then he did. Of course, the idea that Merlin could go around looking like an old crone was hilarious and that was something he'd like to see. "Can you show me the old woman at some point? I could use a good laugh."

"If you let me stay, I'll show you anything you want." Merlin's voice was low, and definite, and he made it sound like a vow, not something to be laughed off or joked about, but as binding an oath as any Arthur had ever said.

"I should be furious but…," Arthur paused, looking at Merlin, wondering just how much trouble the two of them could get in if Merlin had his way, then said, "Anything?"

When Merlin nodded, then sent him a blinding grin – he really did look like an idiot but Arthur wouldn't have it any other way, Arthur gave up. Not like he had any say in the matter. But at least he had to make it look like it was his decision.

Giving Merlin another punch in the arm, laughing when Merlin fake-scowled in protest, Arthur said, "It would appear that Gaius needs an apprentice and since you haven't blown up the place yet, you can stay for now."

"Well, as long as it's for Gaius's sake, my lord, I would be happy to bow to your judgment." Only Merlin could make a mockery of such servility, but oh, how Arthur had missed it.

Pulling Merlin to him, rubbing knuckles against Merlin's rough-Rolf hair, listening with delight as Merlin protested, enjoying the feel of every squirm and wiggle against his side, he leaned over and whispered into Merlin's ear, "I'm glad you're back."

Merlin stilled, then looked up from underneath Arthur's head-lock grip, "Me, too." He jabbed at Arthur's side, wrestling with him as they both spilled onto the floor.

And there was laughter and joy and idiotic grins and Arthur knew then that he wouldn't have it any other way.

The end.


End file.
